Coat Tails
by Dante Morose
Summary: Everyone knows the Elrics' adventure from Ed and Al's perspective, but their story would sound much different if you experienced it the way I did. FMAB from the perspective of Edward's red coat. Prompt from Tomodachi-chan. Enjoy.


For creative purposes, regardless of what the anime or manga depicted, in order to make this story work, I sometimes have Ed wearing his coat when canon says otherwise.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own FMA or the direct quotes used from the FMA:B anime, but I own a red cosplay coat – so there!

Fanart: dantemorose. deviantart. (c om)/art/Evil-Smirk-689437071

* * *

From the day of my creation, I never once heard a compliment. No one wanted me; I was garishly designed. The vibrant red hue of my fabric was something no one would ever wish to wear. I knew from the moment I was stitched that I was destined for an existence of isolation.

But then _he_ came.

Two child-sized hands seized me from my repose on the clearance rack, and I heard the declaration that sealed my doom: "It's perfect!"

In that moment I felt loved, wanted, and cherished. Hope swelled within each fiber of my being. Someone _wanted_ me. Someone called me _perfect_. From that moment on my existence would be brighter and better than I had ever dared to dream. I swore right then that I would make my new owner proud; he would never need another coat but me.

He whisked me off to a mirror, slipped his arms through my sleeves, and straightened my collar. The two of us stared greedily into the reflection.

His wicked grin grew; my enthusiasm faltered.

Um…

A sales attendant squeaked at the sight of us before sighing, "Uh, sir, perhaps you'd like to try something else. This seems a bit too big for you."

Dabble in understatements much?

The boy took no notice of her. Perhaps it was my own view, but the boy's grin boiled over at wicked and spilled into something outright devilish.

No matter what I thought I had known before, I now knew two things for sure: this boy was going to be my owner for the rest of my existence, and I was already wishing for a future of unwanted isolation instead.

* * *

Stop, stop, stop. I said STOP already!

Three hours. Three hours and all my dreams and hopes were gone – crushed and dragged in the dirt by this toddler who pretended to be a child.

Rotten little pipsqueak. I wanted to be worn, not worn _out_. If you can't grow two feet, how about hemming me, huh? I'm willing to take about anything over this ongoing carpet burn. Just please, stop walking.

Pipsqueak hadn't taken me off all the way home; he hadn't even removed me for lunch. What was wrong with this kid? Coats were winter-wear.

It's one in the afternoon and nearly ninety degrees outside. If I catch fire, I hold you entirely responsible.

Wait. Hot.

Sweat.

Perfect.

As expected, pipsqueak didn't bother to take me off for what the snake-haired woman referred to as "training". Well, I'd make sure the pipsqueak was miserable enough. Serve him right for dirtying my coat tails.

Pipsqueak flipped and kicked, tumbled and panted. Hit after hit, the Pipsqueak's evil grin never quite disappeared. By the time he started drawing circles on the ground I'd long given up moaning over each fresh grass stain. So far my plan to sweat him out was a flop. My inner lining stuck to him like a second skin, and the dirt he kicked up coated me inside and out making us both uncomfortable.

A kid with baby fat still rounding his cheeks panted alongside the Pipsqueak and me. "Brother, how are you still wearing that? Aren't you hot?"

Yes, he is. Trust me. It's disgusting.

"Nah, not really," Pipsqueak smiled, and he straightened his back, adding little to his stature, but shifting into a slightly more dominant pose.

"You should probably take it off. It's brand new, and you're ruining it."

"Why have something if you're not going to use it?" Pipsqueak pushed up my sleeves and prepared to pounce on their teacher.

No, no. Listen to your brother. He was obviously born with more brains then you.

"Oh brother…" The kid sighed and readied himself for a follow-up attack.

The four of us – with no consent from me – trained for another hour. My tolerance had been trampled underfoot long ago, and now I just wanted the torture to end. Then suddenly, it did.

Fresh, humid air rushed in to fill the holes where Pipsqueak's arms had been. A wet back disappeared and the soft breeze grazed me with its cooling touch. Relief at last.

Wait, what are you doing? No, no. Ah, c'mon. Really? The ground, pipsqueak? You're just going to drop me on the ground? Way to act your age, kid.

He rushed away to continue training without me. I wallowed in righteous self-pity. Granted it was my own fault for trying to sweat him out. I got what I sought, just not what I really wanted.

My respite lasted all of an hour before Pipsqueak was right there, hauling me up by a sleeve and–

No, wait. Stop, don't move. You're standing on my–!

 _RIIIIIP!_

AGH!

"Oops."

* * *

Pipsqueak never listened. That was the first of many things I learned about him. He never listened to anyone who had a higher sense of self preservation then himself – everyone. He also refused to adhere to any advice with any sort of reason.

In the years following the start of my mobile imprisonment I had discovered Alphonse Elric, the Pipsqueak's somehow-adorable-even-in-a-hollow-armor-suit brother, to be a fantastic confidant. Pipsqueak would leave me lying on the floor or on some street, and not minutes later that devoted little brother would come along and pick me up with a sigh and a good-natured grumble. The two of us evenly endured Pipsqueak's lack of sense and made our best efforts to train him to be better – Al for the Pipsqueak's sake, me for my own.

Some missions went better than others. The worst case was the time he tried to make an elaborate entrance by snagging the perpetrator in the act of his crime. To this day Squeaky will swear that it was my fault for being too long and catching on that nail. In the same strain, I will swear that I was not laughing the color out of my weave watching him flail about helplessly in my folds with a very bewildered criminal looking on.

Real progress didn't start picking up until the kid managed to grown tall enough that my hem didn't drag at his heels. The best case in months had to have been the Isaac McDougal mission. Tracking the alchemist was easy, following him – even simpler. But the moment of truth lay with the little Pipsqueak's plan of attack, not that there ever was a plan.

"What a nasty thing to do," Pipsqueak commented.

 _Thwap!_

Alright, so you're landing on your feet instead of your face. Nice improvement, Pipsqueak, but don't expect me to shower you with too much approval when you still tear me at least once a mission.

"You of all people should know: great deeds require great sacrifice."

Oh, do you hear that, Squeaky? This freezing alchemist guy actually knows what he's talking about. Every time you attempt to make some vainglorious entrance or trap anything, really, I end up muddy, torn, and left on some street – _abandoned_. Talk about great sacrifice. Maybe it's time you tone down the flashy stuff.

With a strike of alchemical light, Pipsqueak's spear transformed into a club…with his face on the end. Hair antenna and all.

Well, at least I tried.

Al cornered the rogue alchemist and the brothers engaged McDougal in a surprisingly balanced fight. One strike to his face, he blocks, Al comes around with a counter attack – the usual. Pipsqueak's heart beat wildly; healthy human response, I supposed, although his training had evened his breath.

After accompanying him into close combat for so many years, not much made my fabric go stiff with fear. He could go so far as to fall in a river and begin sinking without me sliding out of my skeptical observer's perch. Yes, after living with this maniac, I could proudly declare that nothing scared me anymore. Nothing except the inevitable.

A snap of electric energy stemming from McDougal sliced through me.

 _Shwip!_

Inevitable. What'd I say?

Squeaky stepped back and away, his heartbeat still. His voice rumbled within his chest as he subtly chastised the alchemist, "If it's any consolation, you did ruin my coat." My threads shook with wicked agreement.

Ho ho ho! You're in big trouble now, Mr. McFreezer. You get 'em, Squeaky!

 _SWOOSH!_

In the waning moonlight, I caught the brightest rays and flared open to reveal the Flamel sigil seared on my back. I fluttered boldly as Pipsqueak lowered me to the street behind him. No one who saw me would soon forget my form.

Okay, so we were both show offs. But Pipsqueak started it.

While he dealt with the target, I lay crumpled in the street counting the seconds until either Al, Squeaky, or some well-meaning soldier found and picked me up. Sometimes it took minutes, mostly it took hours, maybe even days if the Pipsqueak got laid up in a hospital.

Three minutes and thirty-three seconds. Three minutes and, oh, hello. Back so soon?

Pipsqueak smiled grimly at me, crouched down, and clapped his hands. A shiver of excitement shook me as my fibers aligned and rejoined. If I had to pin the sensation of being alchemically fixed, it felt much like when Pipsqueak popped his back, groaning at first at the new alignment, then sighing into the feeling.

Not a second after I ceased sparking, Pipsqueak thrust his arm through my sleeve and pivoted to head out of the alleyway. Time to report to the Mustang man. Oh, it would certainly be grand to watch the corners of his mouth harden and his eyes twitch as Pipsqueak personally delivered news of his success. About time we got the upper hand with the Colonel.

But then Pipsqueak did a double take, bones rigid as every cell of his body froze in surprise. At the end of the alley, McDougal tipped sideways and made his escape. Steam burst everywhere. When it cleared, McDougal had vanished.

This was going to be a long night.

… … … …

I never particularly liked Mustang. His most common jibes toward Pipsqueak were either about his height or how awful my color was. I knew that, in general, teasing was meant to be said in good fun, but this guy didn't know when to stop.

And then Pipsqueak and I just _had_ to go report that the alchemist had escaped custody seconds after entering it. Even though Pipsqueak deserved the grilling for not following orders to begin with.

As the two alchemists went on with the report, I did my best to look placid. Mustang might not comment on myself or Pipsqueak if I kept quiet enough. I just wanted to go back to the dorm and let Al hang me up for a night, and from the tautness of Squeaky's muscles, all he wanted was a long nap too. His fault for forfeiting his night to chase McDougal.

From across the room, the door swung open and slammed against the wall. "Yo, Roy!"

Pipsqueak's body seized. The man addressed Roy before reaching out to pump Al's arm like a drunk man at a slot machine.

"Wow, it's an honor to finally meet the youngest State Alchemist ever. I'm Lieutenant Colonel Hughes. What a pleasure."

Uh-oh. Your mistake.

Even as Al corrected the poor man, Pipsqueak leaned forward, shoulders spread and back rigid as he projected his signature Full Body Glare. The brightness of my perpetual blush was pale compared to the dark clouds of instant irritation blossoming from the core of my owner's being.

"You're the Fullmetal Alchemist? I had no idea you'd be so–"

Every ounce of Pipsqueak's energy stirred forward to launch him into a mini inferno rage, but Mustang called, "Hughes," and narrowly saved the man's life. Still, the aura encompassing Pipsqueak and myself did not dim. Across from us, Al patted the air which effectively waved off the clouds, but did little to calm Pipsqueak.

"You Elrics, I understand you don't have a place to stay which means you'll have to come with me."

 _Huh?_

Hughes's glasses glinted in the office light as he reached into his coat. Pipsqueak jumped back, and we both clung to the couch.

Please don't shoot me. Shoot the Pipsqueak, but spare me. I can't afford anymore blast holes.

Hughes thrust a picture forward and peered over the top, grinning in a way that only made Pipsqueak and I press closer into the couch.

Back away slowly, Squeaky, and maybe he won't hurt us. Just back away.

It took the entire trip to the apartment for Pipsqueak to come down from his scare. Hughes prattled nonstop about his wife and daughter; Al listened politely, albeit still sounding flustered in his responses. Pipsqueak only stared at the back of the Lieutenant Colonel's head for some time before relaxing into minor annoyance.

Turns out, Hughes and his darling family were quite gentle. Aside from meeting the lovely Elicia Hughes, the introductions went smoothly. As we entered, the smell of home-cooked food softened Pipsqueak's muscles to mush within minutes. His shoulders slumped forward, and his arms hung as deadweights in my sleeves. Exhaustion flooded him, and I couldn't help but weigh heavily on him in return. Perhaps he noticed because he removed me immediately and merrily imposed upon his rights as house guest by dropping me onto the floor.

Yeah, go on and leave me here. Not like I did anything to deserve you! You and your lack of manners, and respect, and– oh hello.

Without missing a beat, Gracia Hughes scooped me up and began to place me on the coat rack. Finally, someone else with Alphonse's level of politeness. She paused, flipped over my thin right shoulder, and hummed in contemplation.

That night, while Squeaky slept safe and content, I suffered the worst patch job of my life. Although I suppose it would be heartless of me not to mention the way Pipsqueak's eyes misted over with shocked gratitude when he saw the work of a mother stitched between my seams.

* * *

I wished Pipsqueak would cry. His chest heaved, and his heart beat slow in mourning. The brittle whine of his automail matched the rain in pitch at his every movement. Even as the skin reddened and swelled around his ports, Pipsqueak refrained from clutching at himself in pain.

Instead he sat still, so eerily unlike him. Beside him, Al preserved the silence. The lack of constant movement threw me off, but after witnessing evidence of Shou Tucker's inhumanity, I too only desired to lay limp in the downpour. I curled myself tightly around Pipsqueak as if I could close off his heart to the hurt. A selfish wish, but even I couldn't stand to feel him so broken.

"I've been thinking about this for a long time," Pipsqueak started. His voice broke tension I hadn't realized was there. He continued on, speculating about their trust in alchemy and whether they had their understanding of it right or not. "I'm such a hopeless idiot. All this time, and I haven't grown up one bit."

As much as I would have agreed, I also thought about slapping him in the face a bit. His dead tone sent shivers down my seams. All this time I had spent my days and nights complaining and wishing for someone new to wear me. Someone more careful, someone who knew how to relax and wore me for leisure and not to cover automail limbs. But now? Right now I just needed Pipsqueak to either stop stripping the color from his emotions or to break down and cry. And then I needed Al to kick him into high gear so they could go back to normal. Well, relative normalcy.

C'mon, Squeaky. I'm hugging you as tight as you can. Just give in for once. I won't tattle if you cry.

"…I want to get my body back soon, Brother. I just want to be human again."

Not you too, Al. I'm not big enough to hold both of you anymore.

Wait.

When did _you_ show up?

A man stared at the three of us from a short way away. I watched him; he did not move.

Um, Pipsqueak? Strange man in shades at one o'clock.

Al kept talking, and Pipsqueak looked at his brother. The man continued to stare unnoticed.

Squeaky, this guy is starting to freak me out a little.

Al ceased talking, and Pipsqueak dropped his head, totally ignorant of the new development in our environment.

Come on, you tiny, little, pipsqueak midget. _Look up._

"You there, boy. Fullmetal Alchemist Edward Elric, correct?"

If I had not been so wrapped up in my effort to make Squeaky see, I might have mustered energy to be surprised the man new Squeaky on sight. It was small consolation that Pipsqueak didn't have the sense to be surprised either.

Pipsqueak looked up, the man opened his palm, and suddenly Al's rough leather gauntlet was jerking me to the side. Pipsqueak reacted with equal swiftness, clapping and momentarily stymieing the man's path. Almost as quick, Pipsqueak's hasty wall was blasted apart from the opposite side.

Pipsqueak's body shook with adrenaline. I readied myself for a fight, but Squeaky remained rigid with shock and terror. The man braced his hand and reached forward once more.

"Let's go, Al! Run for it!"

And we were gone, street rubble spraying up behind us. The stairs collapsed under Pipsqueak's feet, and Al barely caught him by the foot. Frightened, I clung to Pipsqueak's arms, trying to hold on. We fell together, and Pipsqueak's torso twisted off balance upon hitting the stairs below. His practice landings had paid off, however, since nothing was broken in the fall. Good thing too. Mr. Shades kept advancing.

Pipsqueak took off running, Al right beside him, not leaving his brother behind although it was easy for me to see that his tireless legs could reach farther and move faster. Pipsqueak led us into a wide alley, but rubble piled up to create a dead end. Pipsqueak's breath caught.

This was bad. This was very bad. If my infamous Fullmetal Pipsqueak was panicked, then there was certainly something to be panicked about.

Pipsqueak slid to a stop on his knees, turned, and gulped in a lungful of air. It barred his voice from revealing his fear and transformed his tone into anger. "Why are you after us?"

Mr. Shades explained plainly that since Pipsqueak was a "creator" he must be a "destroyer".

"Then it looks like we're gonna have to fight," Pipsqueak deadpanned.

And he was ready now. The adrenaline had switched from flight to fight. I only hoped that slight, pathetic whine in Squeaky's breath was due to breathing in too much rubble dust and not from the feverish skin radiating around his automail ports.

Pipsqueak created a short sword and charged. Alphonse rushed on the opposite side. Mr. Shades sidestepped between the brothers, but I _shwip_ ed out to smack him as we passed. On the other side, it rained metal.

"AL!"

Within my folds, Pipsqueak's heart quivered. His posture stiffened, and I felt a change in him that I hadn't felt in ages. Pipsqueak's entire focus centered on the metal vessel lying helpless on the street. His concentration became mine.

 _Protect Al. Protect Al. Protect protectprotect._

As anyone would under that tremendous pressure, I flapped out of his way and moved to his will.

We charged as one.

We were blasted into the street.

Pipsqueak's anger grew, but so did his pain and terror.

He tore me off and left me on the road, but this time, I did not complain. I didn't wish for a new owner. I simply lay where I was and waited for Pipsqueak to win this fight just like all the others. He would always win simply because he had never truly failed.

But then automail tubes and bolts scattered in the street, across my back, and in the alley. Pipsqueak fell back, useless and helpless, like me.

Al yelled as Pipsqueak and Mr. Shades talked. Being worn by him for so long, I saw Pipsqueak's muscles relax in the knowledge that his brother would be safe.

My panic flared. Al screamed.

 _BANG!_

"You won't be killing anybody else today, Scar."

Mustang. Oh, Mustang, I have never been happier to see you. Pipsqueak, we're okay now. Al's going to be fine; you're going to be fine. _I'm_ going to be fine. Come pick me up. We can get out of the rain and go somewhere dry and away from crazy murderers. Squeaky? Pipsqueak?

Pipsqueak didn't move. From the distance I could barely see his chest rise and fall. The world stopped turning for a moment as I processed what just happened.

Al had almost died.

Pipsqueak had almost died.

And worst of all, Pipsqueak was not moving because he was still afraid of Al being killed. As long as he did not resist, Scar would keep his promise. As long as he was willing to die, Al would not be harmed. So with Scar still in the area, Pipsqueak could do nothing to break his side of the promise lest Scar break his.

That was the first time I realized the lengths Pipsqueak was willing to go in order to protect his brother. It was also the first time I understood that just as Pipsqueak and his brother could not be parted and remain whole, I could never belong to anyone else and still carry the same weight. I would never have the same value as this selfless idiot, but if Pipsqueak died, then my purpose would disappear with him. No one else was the same. Pipsqueak had entrusted me with hiding his two metal secrets, and I would return the favor by helping him protect his most important person.

Equivalent exchange, right?

* * *

Winry was a breeze of comfort and relaxation for us all, but meeting Marcoh jolted Pipsqueak to a higher level of concentration. We had a lead on the stone, all that was needed was to decode the message. Every day living became a blur as we researched day and night. Pipsqueak never put me on once during that time; I am certain he was too focused to note the difference, but I watched him. With the days and nights flying by uninterrupted, he gradually grew tense and stiff. He remained coiled in that position of reading until he fell asleep, a nap that only ever lasted a few minutes before he woke and resumed decoding as though nothing had disrupted him.

Once in a while one of the brothers would speak, jostling the thick air of suspension to ask after an opinion from the other. Then the silence settled once more, and the brothers reentered a realm entirely their own.

And like Brosh and Ross, I could only wait.

Until one night the shell of focus encompassing Pipsqueak and Al shattered.

For once, Pipsqueak did not shout or curse at the world gone wrong. Instead Pipsqueak's shoulders sagged with anger, frustration, and, ultimately, anguish. In that moment of truth, something inside him snapped.

From then on Pipsqueak moved from one lead to another as though he could sense their deadline ticking away. We searched the Fifth Laboratory and met Envy (Only, _I_ am allowed to call my owner "Pipsqueak" you delusional palm tree). We visited their teacher in Dublith (My hometown!), and ran into another homunculus (Greed, the jerk, actually had a sense of style. I would actually miss him.). Pipsqueak trashed Rush Valley trying to catch two loose-lipped foreigners (and almost got banned from the town for life because of it, though that was not unusual). Everywhere we went, everything we did, from Central City to Resembool, was nothing but a swirl of dust and revelations.

And Pipsqueak's focus continued to narrow.

In the beginning all he wanted was his brother back. Now he wanted the truth as well. It consumed him to the point where he almost failed to notice how I now hung a full two inches from the ground. Almost.

Still, as the days stretched longer and Pipsqueak's sanity teetered between despair and outrage, he walked on unwaveringly toward his goal although the truth was tearing him apart.

Like on the day it rained.

I lay in the mud while sheets of water pelted us from the sky. Pipsqueak was digging, and he would not stop. He kept digging. And retching. And digging, and straining to reach the truth, knowing what he might find, yet searching for it anyway.

Like the day he decoded the truth of the Philosopher's Stone, I could only watch. But this time when he realized his error and what it meant, his focus re-centered.

And he laughed.

I never wanted to hear that half-deranged, sobbing laughter from the Pipsqueak who threw tantrums and complained and gave patient, loving comfort to his younger sibling. It wasn't right for someone like him to make such a sound.

The night after his discovery was tough. Pipsqueak turned and mumbled in exhausted sleep. The crease lining his forehead showed me the horrors playing out in his nightmares.

I lay abandoned on the floor. Crumpled and forgotten, I found myself wishing for Al. Al would have picked me up. He would have tucked the covers more gently around Ed and hummed one of their mother's lullabies. Al put the world to rights. Without him, Pipsqueak and I simply could not take care of ourselves.

Pipsqueak mumbled into his covers before waking with a gasp. He froze as mental awareness registered his environment. I waited for him to settle in for a long night of wakefulness when he plucked me up from his bedside. A cold nose nuzzled my shoulder, inhaling deeply and relaxing with a sigh.

Uh…?

Legitimately weirded out, it took me a moment to understand the meaning behind his actions.

Oh.

 _Oh._

Al frequently restrained Pipsqueak by the shoulders to keep him from attacking whoever insinuated he was short. Al picked me up by the shoulders and neck to hang me up. The most common place Al manhandled me was there, and because of this I smelled like Al.

It was still no excuse for never washing me. Did he know how much dog hair I had stuck to me? And the oil stains in the right sleeve? Or the chalk dust coating my pockets?

But as Pipsqueak's hold on me loosened and his breath evened, I begrudgingly condoned his lack of proper care this one time.

If Al couldn't be around all the time, at least I could. Certainly, I could never be an adequate replacement for Al or Squeaky's mom or dad, but he chose me when no one else wanted me.

I sighed and settled around him as best as I could while mentally preparing to be drooled on at some point. As Squeaky's mouth opened wide in a soft snore, I fondly breathed,

It's not like I did anything to deserve you.

* * *

Somewhere in all the craziness that compiled Pipsqueak's life I stopped feeling like a babysitter trying to help Al (my color screaming, "Pipsqueak is over here!") and more like an identifying part of him.

I guess he felt the same, which is why he felt safe leaving me on Winry's shoulders as she sobbed in the street after her confrontation with Scar.

Days flew by, minutes dragged on. The brothers fought one person after another until the enemies all tangled into an indistinguishable mass of conspiracy and terror. Then one morning Squeaky left me on his dorm room bed, and he stayed away long enough that I began to feel the luster of my color marred by dust.

It scared me.

He never left me behind. Whatever he was facing now, must be of greatest importance to make him forget about me. That or he was in the hospital again.

Or maybe I was completely off in my assumptions. Maybe…he'd grown up. Figuratively, because I didn't think it possible for him to get much taller. But he had been acting more mature, more serious, more razor focused since that day in the rain. Maybe he didn't need my color to help him stand out anymore.

A few days later Pipsqueak came slumping into the room, Al trailing after. Pipsqueak flopped onto the bed, right on top of me. He sighed and weeks of tension sank from his shoulders into the mattress. The sweaty pressure from his back suffocated me until I begged for release, but his exhaustion continued to seep out.

The room was silent for a few minutes, and I might have guessed Pipsqueak had fallen asleep had he not answered his brother when Al squeaked,

"Brother?"

"Mmm?"

Al's metal clanked in echo of his fidgeting. Pipsqueak seemed to relax even further rather than recoil. Long exposure to the familiar metal tunes I suppose.

"What's going to happen now?"

Pipsqueak grunted as he flipped over, grinding his elbows into my hood. He puffed out a sigh and buried his face in my folds. "I don't know, Al. I really don't know."

Alphonse settled back with a disappointed creak.

Pipsqueak twitched in instinctive response. He reassured, "But we'll get your body back. Especially now that we know it's there."

Al smiled with his voice, "Yeah," and when Pipsqueak laid his head back down, the weight of his shoulders didn't seem so heavy.

* * *

We climbed Mt. Briggs, and I was stiffer than Pipsqueak's automail. The blizzard had fused his joints tight, and each step he took sent a convulsion of painful shivers up his flesh stump. Al only seemed to notice so much with me covering most of Pipsqueak's body. Squeaky never let me forget that I was not only designed for fashion and convenience, but for concealment as well.

Sometimes I felt like the only one more perceptive of Squeaky's pain was me, and only because he trusted me to hide it.

There was only so much I could do, however, when his arm started to shake with spasms. The fluid inside the tubing had frozen solid, making it nearly impossible to move. He needed to get inside, fast.

That's why the Briggs fort was a welcome escape. That is, until the homunculus Sloth appeared in upheaval. Things just kept getting weirder and weirder. The more bizarre the events, the stronger the reaction from the brothers. Pipsqueak formulated a half-brained scheme when confronted with Kimblee, and then had the lack of brains, but the trust, to agree with Winry's plan for her and Scar. For some reason, no matter how risky the plans, they always worked out to Squeaky's benefit.

I never quite approved of the things my Pipsqueak did, but it impressed me that everything turned out alright. It had taken years of him dragging me into the middle of all his affairs before I realized I trusted Pipsqueak's ideas despite the cost to myself (If I get shredded again during this fight I hold you entirely responsible!)

This trust made me think that if Pipsqueak kept fighting, kept walking on against all the people (and homunculi) trying to beat him down, that everything would be okay. Any fight he entered, Pipsqueak would always somehow leave the victor.

I kept telling myself that right up until the I-beam struck.

AAAH!

"Urk!"

Squeaky blacked out instantly. I rustled to stick my fabric to the edges of hole. If I could press it tightly then when he woke he could fix this and everything would go back to being fine. Right? _Right?_ It was okay if I was ruined, but if Squeaky died, I would forever be stuck to the missing corpse of the greatest alchemist to ever live.

Yeah, did you hear that Pipsqueak? I admitted it. You're the greatest alchemist alive, and– and I care about you; you and your brother. I believe in you. You've got to get up. You've got to save us. You…you have to fix this like you always have, _somehow_.

Pipsqueak's breath was wet, his lungs heaving frantically. His whole body trembled.

I was a fool. Nothing was going to save us this time. We were alone and completely helpless.

Grumbles from the chimeras bounced through the shaft.

Okay, maybe not alone, but being trapped with the enemy was hardly an improvement.

As Pipsqueak came to, he rose up on his forearms, trying to stand. Blood seeped through my protective layer and formed thick puddles on the ground. Squeaky looked back, and his eyes shot wide with horror.

Much as he tried to move, he couldn't breathe without flecks of blood exiting his mouth. I clung tightly, stemming the flow only slightly.

Stop moving. You're making it worse!

The strength vanished from his soul; he collapsed with his face pressed into the rubble. Gasping breaths hitched in his lungs, starting shivers of agony through his back.

This can't be it. This just can't be how it ends.

 _Edward!_

…?

Pipsqueak slammed a fist into the ground. Liquid gurgled in his throat as he growled, "I won't make her cry, especially not over something this stupid." The strength had not flown back into his body. The muscles contracted violently around the beam in response to his shifting. If anything, he was weaker than he ever. But he was still moving.

Propped on his elbows, Pipsqueak clapped and reached back to destroy the metal protruding from behind. Almost immediately he removed the rubble stacked on the chimeras as well.

What are you thinking?

Squeaky's skin paled and grew clammy and slick like meat left out of the icebox too long. Across from us the chimeras approached, growling threats of vengeance toward their former boss.

Take another step, I dare ya. As long as Squeaky's still breathing, there's no way I'll let you touch him. I'm his and he's mine.

"Hey, Fullmetal kid…You still alive?"

"Kid"? Yeah, go on and beat my owner while he's still down. Might as well kick him; it'd have the same effect. Now get out and stop trying to hurt us.

"What made you decide to rescue us?"

Deliriousness and complete lack of judgment, I assure you.

Pipsqueak's lungs heaved, and he forced the words out with a groan, "Don't get the wrong idea. I can't pull this out of my stomach on my own. I could use a little bit of help."

Oh. Um…Squeaky–?

"We were enemies just five minutes ago, and now you're asking us to save your life."

What he said.

"Yeah…basically." He didn't even have the breath to sound annoyed.

The two chimeras set about propping Pipsqueak upright. He moaned and blood spurts squished out around the beam.

If you try to hurt him, I swear I'll defend his life with every ounce of pitiable protection I can offer.

One of the chimeras pointed out a major problem, one I was prepared to handle, if I could that is. "You're gonna bleed to death pretty quickly once I pull this out."

"Not if I heal it…As soon as it's out of me, I'll close up the wound with alchemy."

That's my Squeaky! Always fixing things against all odds. Just…don't black out first, okay? You sound a little…wheezy.

They sat discussing it for a minute. Pipsqueak's muscles were turning flaccid against me. They needed to hurry or else he would not be capable of moving to perform any sort of motion, much less life-saving alchemy.

"Ready?" The chimera gripped the bar.

A sigh flowed through Squeaky. He forced himself to relax, but I could feel his heart racing in nervous anticipation. He raised his arms, "I'm ready."

Razor focus rested on the surface above his anxiety. It was the same focus as when he trained with his teacher, performed Human transmutation, and signed his life away to the military. But it was also the same mentality as when he assumed the role of parent for Al, sought after a morally right way to restore their bodies, and threw his life into never making the same mistakes again. The determination that swelled inside him now had defined him from the beginning of his life. Pipsqueak hadn't lost himself to his past. He fought selflessly, even now, to make his loved ones happy no matter the cost to himself.

Edward Elric was the greatest alchemist alive.

But he was also a brother, a friend, and a human being.

Panicked as I had been, his confidence swept it aside. Nothing in this world had stopped him yet, and certainly an I-beam wouldn't stop him now.

"AAAACKKK!"

CLAP!

SHING!

"…Did he make it?"

Squeaky's heart beat steady against my fur-lined front.

"Ya can't kill me that easily."

He stumbled away, proving again just how far he would push himself to save his most important people.

Oh, you lovable idiot.

One chimera hoisted Pipsqueak gently onto his back. While they discussed where to find a doctor, I hugged Pipsqueak reassuringly.

You don't have to fix everything alone. We've got you now, and we'll take care of you until you are able to take care of us once more.

* * *

I sagged on Squeaky's shoulders, looking as pale as I felt. After going incognito, Pipsqueak had taken pains to repair my thinning weave and alchemically remove my red dye to complete his disguise. He sighed when he put me on the first time ("This just doesn't feel right.") but he two chimeras couldn't be happier to see Pipsqueak in normal attire ("You guys got a problem with my sense of style?" "You don't have any."). I cried. Back on the store rack I would have loved this ordinary look, but I had become fond of my color. It was the reason Squeaky loved me so much, and going without the constant admiration was a hard adjustment.

All was forgiven once we stopped at the market and Pipsqueak returned me to my rightful color with a bucket of dye and an alchemic equation.

"C'mon, what's wrong with what you're wearing now?"

"That doesn't seem flashy to you?"

Pipsqueak turned away. "There's a pretty good chance this is gonna be the last battle we ever fight. I want to do it in style."

I flushed with pride.

From the forest to Central City, Pipsqueak and his brother never got more than a few moments rest. Everything bad that could have happened, did, and anything that might have gone better got horribly, horribly worse.

The fighting descended into pure madness when the mannequins were released, and again when Envy (I said it once and I'll say it again: _I'm_ the only one allowed to call him "Pipsqueak"!) taunted Mustang in the tunnels. The world slid into hell when we came face to face with Father underground, but still Pipsqueak's heart beat steady.

Through it all, I could do was cheer and protect while Pipsqueak and everyone he loved fought to save themselves, and in most cases, each other. I was proud of them, especially Pipsqueak. Scared and angry though he was, he hadn't come this far to be beaten by some Hohenheim doppelganger with a god complex.

I got lost before the end began. I didn't get to see the final battle or Alphonse's revival. My luck didn't even allow me he comfort of seeing Pipsqueak sauntering along looking for me after the chaos. I was alone, abandoned, but content. Everything had turned out alright. My little Pipsqueak had done it again. Despite his past mistakes, he had dedicated his life to repairing them. Now he would finally be able to breathe.

But me? I was torn and tattered and beyond repair. Several days passed before a nameless soldier fished me from the rubble. From the rough way he handled me, I knew I was headed straight for a dumpster.

But Breda was on clean-up detail, and he rescued me. Bloodstains, dust, rips, and all, he carefully folded me, tucked me under one arm, and started off toward Amestris Central Hospital.

Inside, Breda tapped the door with one knuckle before inviting himself into the room. In the bed by the window, a boy with gaunt features and unmistakable golden-brown hair huffed a sigh in his sleep and turned over. Slumped upright in the bed closest to the door lay my Fullmetal Pipsqueak.

He watched us tip-toe in.

"Is he still asleep?" Breda whispered. "I didn't want to wake him."

Pipsqueak cast a patient gaze over his shoulder. "It's fine. I doubt anything could wake him now. Just…catching up on some needed sleep I guess."

Breda nodded in understanding and stepped to the side of Squeaky's bed. "Found something; thought you might want it. They were about to throw it into the incineration pile."

A soft, clumsy hand weakly took me. I slid through Pipsqueak's fingers and fell on his lap. I was totally unsanitary in this white environment.

I know now is the wrong time to ask, but could you maybe wash me or repair me? At the very least, hang me up somewhere safe?

Pipsqueak's shaking fingers turned me over to trace the flamel on my back.

Please?

A strange smile of fondness that I'd never seen before melted the sleep and pain from his face.

"We really did it," he whispered.

And though I knew he was not talking to me, I whispered back:

Yeah, we did.

During our stay in the hospital Alphonse repeatedly offered to fix my tears, and Gracia Hughes had to forcibly stop herself from patching me up. Everyone else encouraged Pipsqueak to just throw me out. When I was created, I had no redeeming value. Now I had even less. Pipsqueak let them talk all they liked, but he declined the offers of repair and ignored all jibes that he was acting like a toddler who wouldn't let go of his blankie.

He did, however, let the hospital staff wash me.

(Victory!)

Pipsqueak never wore me after The Promised Day. On the day of our departure to Resembool, Mustang approached Pipsqueak and presented him a small – illegal – parting gift: Pipsqueak's State Alchemist watch. Now that Pipsqueak had rescinded his title of State Alchemist, he was forbidden to use it for identification purposes, but it was his to keep. No one argued that. Pipsqueak accepted it with a mumble that might've been a curse, but was more likely a suppression of his gratitude. He tucked it safely in one of my pockets and wrapped up what little remained of me for the train ride home.

After everything we'd gone through together, Pipsqueak hung me up. His alchemical days had come to an end, and his life of exploring the world for more than just his brother was about to start. I couldn't say that I was sorry I would be left behind, but as I settled on the hanger I benignly admitted that I was glad that the once over-exuberant Pipsqueak had had the crazy enthusiasm necessary to love someone like me. I only hoped that I had kept my ignorantly made promise in making him proud.

Time passed slowly while I slept. Hung in the back of Pipsqueak's closet, I only ever saw light when he moved his oversized and never worn military suit to stare at me with sad, longing eyes. He always gazed at me like I was a good wish gone sour, and I couldn't help but wonder if he thought of his carefree days when he looked at me. The days when he dragged me around like a blanket on his young shoulders.

As the days then weeks and eventually years passed, Pipsqueak pulled me out less often. Sometimes he traveled; sometimes he was too exhausted to remember me. Screams and burbles echoed through the walls, and I smiled to think that my Pipsqueak had actually grown up.

Then one day, he came for me.

Pipsqueak's expression was different. He tugged me off the hanger and brought me out into the light of his and Winry's bedroom. I stiffened.

Oh, no. Not another unholy devil. I will not let your demon seed wear me. I will not. It just cannot happen.

Pipsqueak turned and gently placed me on the shoulders of the young boy. The child squeaked with delight and thrust his arms through my frayed sleeves.

If I get any more ruined, I hold you entirely responsible. Do you hear me you tiny, midget Pipsqueak?

Pipsqueak's easy grin twitched into something akin to maniacal as his miniature doppelganger swept me around the room. The child beamed and dashed us straight to Winry's full body mirror. As his satisfaction grew, my threads of patience grew thinner.

"It's perfect! Thanks, Dad."

And perhaps it was my imagination, but as Pipsqueak's eyes tracked the child's movements, his gentle gaze hardened and the devilish grin slipped.

After all, there's nothing like seeing your son follow in your footsteps.

* * *

Yes, I, uh…gave Ed's coat personality. And a thought process. It just sorta happened, y'know. Kinda weird, but fun to write so, you know, whatever.

Also, I know Ed replaced his coat in E47, but for creative purposes I made it so that he kept his coat and merely fixed it up with red dye later.

Let me know what you think!

-Dante


End file.
